


Across The Universe

by siriusblue



Series: In A Hundred Lifetimes [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek
Genre: Alien Abduction, Alternate Universe - Space, Fluff, M/M, Mycroft is a bit of a git, Sexual Content, Very happy fluffy ending, crossover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 04:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/pseuds/siriusblue
Summary: Sherlock/Star Trek crossover fic. Captain Gregory Lestrade and the crew of the USS Esperanza are chosen to escort the Terran ambassador to a peace conference on Rigel Five. Greg is disturbed to find the ambassador is his former lover, Mycroft Holmes, a man Greg has never managed to get over. Greg hopes things will go smoothly but trouble strikes for both of them before they even leave the space dock.





	Across The Universe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Black_Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Dawn/gifts).



ACROSS THE UNIVERSE

This came about during a long chat with Black_Dawn about Mystrade and Star Trek which is why this is dedicated and gifted to her. Thank you, darling. 

I've loved ACD Sherlock Holmes and Star Trek since I was tiny. All mistakes are my own.

Stardate 5323. On board the NCC-1963 Esperanza. Constellation Class.

The turbo lift doors opened with their usual hiss and Greg Lestrade stepped onto the bridge of the U.S.S. Esperanza.

“Captain on the bridge.” announced Lieutenant Donovan.

“As you were.”

He took his seat in the captain’s chair and looked around him.

“Status, Mr Sherlock.”

His half-Vulcan science officer paused in his work.

“My calculations are that we should reach Starbase Five in approximately thirty minutes, Captain.”

“Excellent. It wouldn't do to keep the ambassador waiting.”

“Indeed. “ 

Sherlock turned his attention to the instrument panel and Greg sighed.

The man had no concept of sarcasm. He was only the second half-Vulcan, half-human to graduate from Starfleet Academy, following in the footsteps of the famous Spock, but this Sherlock had completely embraced his Vulcan heritage. Emotions were anathema to him and he was close to no one.

Greg pressed a button on his command chair.

“Engine room. How are things down there, Mr Scott? Have you fixed the problem with the transporter?”

“All sorted, Captain” came the reassuringly gravelly tones of Montgomery Scott. Greg had astonished when the legendary engineer had signed up for his crew. Scotty had explained it in his usual blunt fashion after Greg had plucked up the courage to ask him why.

“She's a beautiful ship, Captain Lestrade, but she's got some miles on her. I’d like my last deep space tour to be in something like her where I can spend my time fixing her up and get her running like a sewing machine. I’m getting too old for adventures.”

“Entering Starbase orbit now, Captain.” announced Ensign Anderson.

“Open hailing frequencies, Donovan”

“Hailing frequencies open, sir.”

“Starbase Five, this is the U.S.S. Esperanza requesting permission to dock. We’re here to pick up the Terran ambassador.”

“Permission granted, Esperanza. Proceed to docking bay seven.” said a cool female voice.

Thank you. Esperanza out.”

Greg smiled in spite of himself. It would be nice to see a few different faces after all that time in deep space.

“One quarter impulse power, Mr Anderson.”

“Aye, sir.”

He guided the ship into the space dock with smooth efficiency and brought it to a gentle halt.

“Docking clamps engaged. Ready to disembark, Captain.”

“Thank you, Mr Anderson. I wish to make an announcement.”

Greg flicked another switch on the command chair and spoke. He knew this would be heard by everyone on board.

“This is the Captain speaking. We’ve arrived at Starbase Five. Shore leave is effective immediately. You have forty-eight hours, ladies and gentlemen. I know our next assignment is going to be a milk run, but may I just say that sometimes we have to take the rough with the smooth. Lestrade out.”

Greg stood up and stretched.

“Better get changed into my dress uniform. Mr Sherlock, you and Doctor Watson will accompany me and escort the ambassador on board. I wouldn't insult him by having any less of an entourage.”

“Very good, sir.” replied Sherlock. “I shall also endeavour to dress appropriately.”

“Good. See that the doctor gets the message, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Greg returned to his quarters and after a quick sonic shower put on his dress uniform. It was a little tight, but it had been a very long time since he had worn it.

There was a chime at the door of his quarters, outside were Mr Sherlock and Doctor John Watson both in their dress uniforms. John looked pissed off.

“What about shore leave?” he complained. “I was really looking forward to it.”

“Don’t worry, John.” smiled Greg. “I just need you two for window dressing. Once the ambassador is on board, you’re free to enjoy yourself.”

“I’m sure the barmaids in the pubs will be simultaneously delighted and terrified.” said Sherlock dryly.

“I’m not called ‘Three-Planets-Watson’ for nothing, you know.” said John smugly.

Letting them bicker, Greg made his way off the ship onto the star base. He headed for the diplomatic quarters, theorising that it was where they would find the ambassador. He wondered what old fossil they had dug up to try and broker a peace between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. It would be a thankless task, Greg thought.

“You two, stop arguing.” he ordered. “We’re here.”

In the elegant foyer of the building a beautiful young woman was waiting, tapping away at her hand-held device. She looked vaguely familiar to Greg and she gave them a thin smile at their approach.

“Captain Lestrade, Ambassador Holmes will be with you shortly.”

No. It couldn’t be. She surely didn’t mean…

Greg’s brain short-circuited right about the same time that Sherlock hissed like an angry cat.

The man approaching them, even in his diplomatic robes of office, looked like a pirate. He was tall and slender and moved as though the world would rearrange itself around him as required. His red hair was cropped close to his skull and his blue eyes glittered feverishly as he extended a long fingered hand for Greg to shake.

“Mr Lestrade. Or should I call you Captain? Anthea here tells me you have your own starship. Is that what is going to take me to Rigel Five?”

“Yes, it is. On behalf of the…”

“Yes, whatever. Cut out the bureaucratic claptrap, Gregory.I know you’re not thrilled to see me. Why would you be? Hello, little brother.”

John looked at Sherlock in utter amazement. There could not be two individuals less alike yet this man was claiming to be his brother?

“Half brother. Good day, S’Tpan.”

The ambassador quickly masked his anger.

“Start that nonsense again and I will insist on calling you William.”

Sherlock visibly winced.

I see you’re still holding on to your Vulcan heritage. Take my advice. Cut it loose, little brother before it destroys you.”

Sherlock looked disgusted and John felt inclined to intervene.

“Doctor John Watson. How do you do?”

Mycroft smiled and shook John’s hand.

“Very well, thank you. My, perhaps this voyage won’t be without its distractions after all. Very nice to meet you, Doctor Watson. I see that you’re surprised that Sherlock there has a brother. Our father is a Vulcan, a scientist and an explorer. He had the terrible habit of going through  _ pon farr _ while he was on Earth.” He pointed to himself and Sherlock. “ And this is the result. Our mothers are Terran, I still talk to mine though I can’t say the same for my sibling.”

“Half sibling.”

“My brother entered the Academy. I, on the other hand, took a different path. Diplomacy and politics. And here we are.”

“That explains a lot,” muttered John.

“My luggage should have been put on board by now,” continued Mycroft.“Shall we?”

Greg sat in his quarters and seethed. Of all the bloody people for the President to send, it had to be Mycroft Bloody Holmes, to give him his full name.

He might be trying to disown his Vulcan heritage but there were certain things he could not hide.His pointed ears. His firm belief in logic, usually to astound naive people so he could charm them. Greg had been one who had left himself vulnerable and had believed he had found something special. That had been a long time ago, there was a lot of water under that particular bridge.

Greg groaned aloud as the memories assailed him. Meeting Mycroft at some dull seminar at the Academy and Mycroft giving him a look that would have made a hooker blush. Endless games of three-dimensional chess when the weather was too appalling to venture outside. Constant arguing about nothing in particular just because Mycroft relished make-up sex and Greg was every bit as partial. The way his pale freckled skin would flush with the faintest tint of green whenever they fucked.

Greg had let himself fall in love then made the mistake of telling Mycroft.

Mycroft had destroyed Greg’s hope of a happy ending with a few short sentences of pure logic. They would be separated soon enough, Greg to his ship and Mycroft who knew where. They had had a good time and surely there were no regrets? Love could not survive over light-year separation, surely even Greg could understand that?

In the end, Greg had had to let him go, and no relationship since could hold a candle to those frantic few months with Mycroft. Seeing him today had brought it all back, including the realisation that Greg still loved him.

“For fuck’s sake!” he exclaimed. Then the doorbell of his quarters chimed.

“Come in,” he said wearily.

Mycroft came through the door, smiling like he always used to and sat uninvited on the bed next to Greg.

“Hello, Gregory. I think we should talk.”

“About what? You made it pretty plain that there was no future for us all those years ago. Nothing’s changed. I’m still in Starfleet and you’re still a diplomat.”

“That’s true. Everyone else since you has been a disappointment.” sighed Mycroft.

“That’s sad,” said Greg with gleeful insincerity. Mycroft grinned.

“You’re still a terrible liar, Gregory Lestrade. You’re pleased my personal life is a disaster.”

“I’m sorry things ended the way they did, but you made it quite plain that it wouldn’t work. There didn’t seem to be any point in carrying on.”

“Maybe I was wrong. If you really love someone, you will always find a way.”

“I did. I still do. Mycroft…”

“And so do I. Enough talking.” Mycroft leaned closer, his eyes desperately seeking permission which Greg was most willing to give. They kissed, exploring each others mouths hungrily, hands pulling at clothing which was quickly discarded till they were both naked on his bed, Greg’s hands caressing those well-remembered contours, making Mycroft sigh, making him cry out in sheer ecstasy. They were about ten years past gentle, all there was was heat and need and sweat until Greg felt Mycroft shudder under him and he was lost.

They lay together afterwards, Mycroft’s head in the crook of Greg’s neck, his hand on Greg’s chest.

“I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you. I’m too bloody stubborn for my own good sometimes.” 

Greg was about to reply, his heart about ready to burst with happiness when it happened.

There was a pull; a strong feeling that someone had just hooked him with a fishing gaff and he was being drawn inexorably away from Mycroft. Everything dissolving into a silver haze then fading to black.

Greg didn’t know how long he had been unconscious but when he stirred, a gentle hand pressed down on him to stop him from getting up.

“Rest easy, Gregory Lestrade. Being sliced from time can have some unsavoury side effects. Your companion is likewise afflicted. When you are both judged to be well enough, then we shall begin.”

The hand and the voice withdrew. Greg opened his eyes and turned his head. Mycroft was in the room with him,resting on what looked like one of Doctor Watson’s sick bay beds.

“Sliced from time? What the fuck does that mean?” Greg muttered.

There was a groan from the bed opposite. “Gregory? What happened?”

“No idea. One minute we were in my bed, the next…”

There was a hiss, like the sound of a door opening. Greg sat up. A figure stood in the room. Around seven feet tall and completely androgynous with dark skin and eyes that appeared to be all pupil. They wore a simple tunic and no other adornments. 

“So you are properly awake,” said the figure. They walked to a cupboard Greg hadn’t noticed and pulled out two tunics similar to the one it was wearing.

“We sliced you both at an inappropriate moment. You cannot visit The Eye naked, it would be most improper.”

The figure handed them both a tunic which they pulled on. It had to be made of some kind of smart material for it fitted Greg perfectly and he saw it was the same for Mycroft.

“Look,” said Greg. “I’m a Starfleet Captain. My friend is a Terran ambassador. I need to get back to my ship and he needs to get to the peace conference. Can you at least tell me where we are?”

“You are nowhere. And do not fear the passing of time because you have both been sliced from it.”

“But why? And why us?”

“This is what we do,” replied the figure, seemingly oblivious to Greg’s rising anger and distress.”We are Sensali.”

“Are we supposed to know what that means?” asked Mycroft coming to stand beside Greg. “I can assure you, I know every race and species in the known cosmos and I have never heard of you.”

“We are Sensali. Once you have visited The Eye, everything will become clear, though you are on your way to understanding, given the condition you were found in. Now, come with me.”

The lovers looked at each other and shrugged, following the tall, willowy figure as they led them down a long white corridor, then ushered them through another door. 

Inside the room were two chairs set in front of a screen almost as big as the viewer on the Esperanza.

“You will sit and you will watch.” said the figure. “Afterwards, you will have many questions. Or none. Sit. watch.”

They sat. Greg noticed how Mycroft gripped the arm of his chair when he heard the door close behind them.

The screen flickered into life. 

They saw themselves as they had been during the best part of their relationship, loving passionate and full of joy. Then the image faded, static flickered across the screen until…

_ Mycroft is a king, kneeling before him to pledge his allegiance is a silver haired Greg. King Mycroft raises the knight to his feet and kisses him passionately. _

More static.

_ 1960’s London. Mycroft is seated in a chair, reciting something to a rapt audience. He is wearing a tweed suit and glasses.  A proud Greg watches his lover enthrall with the power of his voice alone, knowing that afterwards Mycroft will be his. _

More static.

_ 1980’s Serbia. Mycroft is a journalist, reporting on the aftermath of the Yugoslavian civil war. The militia leader is a good and kind man. They make love in bombed-out buildings because they know their time together will be short but that does not stop Mycroft falling in love. _

More static

_ A teenage Mycroft in a purple dress that is half-buttoned up is being kissed by a teenage Greg Lestrade. It’s their first kiss, it is so obvious, but first love can be the most powerful of all. _

More static

_ Mycroft is playing a trumpet in the living room of a contemporary house. A small boy and a red and white dog watch him, while Greg sketches the whole scene. On their left hands are identical wedding rings. _

More static

_ Mycroft is on stage but this time he is singing with a full operatic cast. Greg is in a prime spot in the audience, smiling with pleasure as his husband sings his favourite aria. _

More static

_ Greg is a policeman. A detective. Mycroft is a government official. It could be complicated, especially with a loose cannon like Sherlock in their lives, but they make it so it isn’t. Against all the odds, it works. _

More static

_ Greg and Mycroft are both old, their bodies slowing down, there are wrinkles and reading glasses, joints that hurt and blurry memories, yet they still kiss each other good morning. Every morning. _

The screen went blank.

The door opened again and the figure returned.

“What did we just see?” asked Greg. He was still reeling from the power of some of the images.

“A snippet of a hundred lifetimes. You two are bound together.”

“I don’t get it,” said Greg, confused.

“I think I do,” said Mycroft softly.”You are aware of the existence of parallel worlds?”

“Yes, of course I am.” 

“Sensali. It's an old Earth word for matchmaker. Gregory, we are meant to be together.”

“What, like soulmates? I thought you didn't believe in all that old cobblers?” scoffed Greg.

“I didn't until I met you. We are the living embodiment of another old Earth saying.”

Mycroft took Greg’s hands in his and looked deep into his eyes as he quoted.

“In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you.” 

“Now you understand,” said the figure. “And with that understanding, we will return you to your own time, your own universe. It will be as though you never left, but whatever you do now, you will do it together.”

“We will.” promised Greg.

Fade to black

When Greg came to this time he was back in his quarters on the Esperanza.

Mycroft stirred in Greg's arms.

“That was weird.” he said.

“That is a bloody understatement.” said Greg.”So I didn't dream it, then?”

Mycroft kissed the corner of Greg's jaw.

“No, it was real. And the Sensali are something that needs to be brought to the Federation’s notice. Eventually.”

“What, like in a hundred years eventually?” 

“Close enough. Gregory, if this peace conference goes well, I'm going to ask for a permanent posting to Earth.” said Mycroft.

“Really?”

“Yes. I know we will be separated occasionally but other couples manage. If that's what you want…”

Mycroft’s eyes were damp, but his gaze never left Greg’s.

“It's all I ever wanted,” replied Greg seriously.

“Then we will make it happen,” said Mycroft simply. “It was always you, Gregory. Always.”

Greg was about to respond in kind when he was hailed through the comm system.

“Sorry to interrupt, Captain.” 

“What did you do?” asked Greg. “Hang a tie on the doorknob?”

Mycroft dissolved into silent hysterics as Greg said.

“Go ahead, Donovan.”

“Sir, we’ve just had a communication from Rigel Five. The conference is being brought forward. We have to leave within the hour to make it in time.”

“Very good, Lieutenant. Get everyone back from shore leave, send Security to drag Doctor Watson out of the nearest bar and we will be underway. Lestrade out.”  

“I should get back to my quarters and prepare,” said Mycroft. 

“Before you go, remember that I love you.Always have, always will.”

Mycroft smiled as he pulled on his trousers.

“I'm going to hold you to that. For the rest of your life.” 

“I'm counting on it,” smiled Greg.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> The quote Mycroft uses is one that I read once and never forgot. I wish I knew the source. If you read this and you know, please tell me so I can credit it properly. Ta.


End file.
